Whatever We Please
by TangerineFields
Summary: Even for Remus and Sirius, worn, shabby and shattered, anything goes at Christmas. RxS


Set during the Order of the Phoenix, while Sirius is struggling to sit still at Grimmauld Place.

Disclaimer: Remmie and Sirius are most definitely Ms. J. K. Rowling's, although finding them under my christmas tree would be lovely, if not a little disconcerting...

**Whatever We Please**

"Budge up, Rem." All velvet, fag smoke and whiskey now, Sirius pushes into Remus' snowy bubble. The inset window is too small for the both of them, and Remus gets that old shock as Sirius brushes up against him. "S'pretty."

"It is." Remus turns slightly and smiles; worn, shabby and shattered. Outside Jack Frost has coated the trees and the world looks like a Harrods window display. Perfect blue sky, perfect white tendrils glistening. Picture postcard.

They stand and stare out for a little while, like children gawping into a toyshop. The sun is smiling and the frost is melting in snow flakes that drift down to the cold earth.

"Bit too perfect?" Sirius has cocked his head and is assessing the view from the window critically.

"Not everything has to be flawed, Sirius."

He smiles; worn, shabby and shattered. "I know that Rem."

Remus watches Sirius from the corner of his eye, and then reaches for his hand. "It's nearly Christmas," he murmurs, and whether it's an excuse or a declaration he can't be sure.

"It is," Sirius agrees, and regards their hands, entwined on the windowsill. "Thinking about doin' the tree today," he feigns nonchalance. "You staying?"

"Should be."

"Good," Sirius grins, and nudges Remus, who rolls his eyes good naturedly.

"You're in a good mood today."

"Saying I'm not normally?"

Remus raises an eyebrow at him, "I hope you're planning on retracting that."

"Oh come on, Rem, I'm trying." Sirius sighs heavily. "You're putting a dampener on it."

"I didn't mean to."

"You're no bundle of laughs yourself, you know."

"Well we've both –"

"Been through the wringer." Sirius smiles, and he looks so old that Remus wants to sob.

"Yes." Remus squeezes the hand he has claimed. "But we're out of it now."

Sirius cocks an eyebrow and glances around the filthy hallway. "This is out of it?"

"You know what I mean." Remus squirms. "It's not Azkaban."

A shadow passes across Sirius' face and leaves a dark look behind. "It might as well bloody be."

"Let's not, Sirius." Remus glances at him pleadingly. "We were doing so well."

Sirius sighs, and steals his hand back. Remus' fingers move against the empty space and the knot in his stomach tightens uncomfortably.

"I want you to take a room." Sirius isn't looking at him.

"What?"

"A room, here. I mean," the hands are out to move in the enclosed space, dancing to what Sirius' murmurs. "You're here almost every day as it is. And you can't keep up the…" He looses the word. "God, Rem you know what I mean."

"I do." Remus shrugs. "I will if it's not a problem."

"Course it's not. I wouldn't have bloody asked you if it was." Sirius appears to be sulking.

"Sirius, you know I never play to whatever agenda it is you've got up your sleeve." Remus raises an eyebrow, and tugs gently at Sirius' velvet jacket. "Out with it."

Sirius stares determinedly out of the window, past the illuminated icicles and into the flat blue sky. "I missed you. I miss you."

Remus' heart gives a flutter. "And?"

A slight smile curves Sirius' lips. "And it's Christmas," he laughs quietly. "And I want you here." He stops and then looking at Remus he mutters, "Gods, I don't know, I just want you."

Remus is quiet for a long time, as his heart does painful things to his ribcage. "It's been too long."

"God yes."

Sirius is staring at him with those huge, grey eyes and Remus feels the years melt off him. Years of loneliness and bitterness peel away and float to the floor like the frost in their picture postcard backdrop. He moves a hand to Sirius' face and feels the stubble from the previous day, and he has to smile. "Can we go back like that?"

Sirius shrugs and Remus catches a flicker of carelessness and cologne and schoolboy passion. "It's Christmas. We can do whatever we damn well please."

The feeling of Sirius' lips against his plunges Remus into a well of memories he was sure he must have lost. The inset window is just the right size now; their bodies fitting together exactly as they always had. Breaking away is so painful that Remus is convinced Sirius must have stolen something quintessential from him.

"This room you want me to take," Remus gasps. "How thick are the walls?"

Sirius grins devilishly at him. "Depends how good we are at those silencing charms."

And as Remus' back arches against the wall and Sirius' lips crash against his again with the full force of fourteen years forced celibacy, Remus feels sure he's not going to run short of opportunities for practice.


End file.
